Going to English School- Again

In this image we see the classroom
in San Miguel English School circa 1935.
Notice the stern looking Schoolmaster in the
back who kept perfect order in his classroom.
Image thanks to CZimages.com

Since I had heard some of the neighborhood Westindian boys talk about Teacher Thomas’ School, I couldn’t wait for the opportunity to attend his, by now, very reputable school since it was right across the street from our house. Apparently, Teacher Thomas had taken over the old Jamaican Society Hall and converted it into his school. It was said that since before the 1920′s old Teacher Thomas had been right there providing education for Black children. I would never, much to my disappointment, however, be able to attend his famous school and to this day it remains a mystery to me why not.

My first experience with Miss Blake’s Balcony School had only made me cherish another opportunity at attending an English School, and my next experience would come in the form of The San Miguel English School. It was up on San Miguel Hill, not too far from the Spanish Catholic Church known by the same name which, at the time, was a small chapel. At the San Miguel English School on the hill there were more Black children and we sat and repeated the daily lesson out loud by rote.

However, when we were given an assignment to practice writing, which was more like copying out of a textbook, Mr.-under-the-bed-self-taught-newspaperman needed no instruction on how to write, making my teachers and my parents real proud of me. I breezed through the lessons without any real challenges. Although our attendance to this school was another short lived experience, it gave me more confidence in what I could do by now and in knowing that I hadn’t wasted any time under the bed.

My next school experience would be with a church lady who loved to play her pipe organ. She pumped away at her organ with her feet and although we dreamed of writing and learning something, Teacher just sang hymns and played on her organ enjoying herself all day.

Our next English School was headed by Teacher Phillips who basically walked around the very large room with the proverbial and fearsome leather strap draped over his shoulder. This aspect of Teach Phillips, a rather large man with a dreaded look on his face who was ever ready to use that menacing strap, seemed to take all the fun out of learning.

This story will continue.